Little Blue Envelopes
by Jaytummy
Summary: Bella Swan never knew anything about her family. But when mysterious envelopes come in the mail, instructing her to leave everything behind and jump on a plane to London, she takes a chance, and along the way, maybe finds love? ExB
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the amazing Stephenie Meyer.**

**A/N: Hello people! This is my first story, and I'm hoping you like it. This chapters pretty short, but I do have the next one done and I'm almost done chapter 3. If you want me to post them, all you have to do is click the button at the bottom.**

**I want to explain a few things before this starts. This is **_**loosely **_**based on the book '13 Blue Envelopes'. I've never read the book (I didn't have enough money when I was at the book store) but I thought the back sounded cool, and then a fanfic popped into my head.**

**Also, this takes place in New York City, and Bella is nineteen. I think that's it, but if there are any other questions, feel free to ask!**

I stared at the screen of my laptop, coming up with nothing. My fingers drummed over the keys, and then, in complete frustration, slammed the obscene thing shut and threw it on the floor. I hastily put my long hair up into a bun and laid back on my pillows.

Like any author out there, I was going through a stage of writer's block. A disease that I cannot afford to have.

After about an hour of staring at my ceiling hoping desperately that inspiration would hit, I decided it was time to leave the apartment. After all, it was twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and I was still in my plaid pajamas.

So, I left my apartment, and walked in the one across from mine. Alice's.

I walked in and was greeted by the blessed smell of coffee. Alice, who somehow knew I was there even though had her face covered by the newspaper she was reading, held up a cup in the air for me.

"Hey, Bella," she said, and put the paper down so she could grin at me. "What's up?" she asked, and I plopped down in the chair across from her.

"Give my inspiration, my favorite muse," I begged her. Alice always came up with ideas for books. She gave me the ideas, I put them down on paper, and, in her words, 'spun them together like magic'. But this time she rolled her eyes.

"Sorry, Bells, I'm all out of inspiration. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?" she asked, and this time it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"Alice, we all know I'm the one with the dry humor, and you're the hyper one," I said as I took a sip of Alice's coffee. I tried not to choke on it. "God, Alice, this is awful! Did you let Emmett make it or something?" I asked and reached behind me to pour it down the drain.

The door to the bathroom opened and Emmett came lumbering out. He scowled at me.

"Fine, you make the coffee, miss I'm-a-waitress-in-a-coffee-house-so-everyone-else's-coffee-sucks," he said sarcastically.

"Wow, your parents really didn't love you if they named you that," Alice said, and then realized what she said. Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"I'm so-" she started, but I cut her off.

"So, when are you going out with Jasper today?" I asked slyly.

"I'm leaving at two for a late lunch," she told me, knowing that I wanted a subject change. I pulled the newspaper down to see her face, which was bright red. Blushing is not common for Alice, but whenever I bring up her knew sort-of boyfriend Jasper, she looks like a tomato.

"Alice is in _love_," Emmett teased, and Alice smacked his shoulder.

"Shut up," she whined.

"Alice and Jasper kissing in a tree; K-I-S-S-I-N-G," we sang, and miraculously, she turned even redder. Eventually we stopped, but the whole time I was there, Emmett wouldn't stop making very obvious innuendos.

Emmett and I left at one-thirty so Alice could get ready. I went downstairs to get my mail, and when I opened the slot, letters started spilling out all over me, and each one was a powder blue.

Something wasn't right here.

**There you have it! Review please and constructive criticism is great!**

**I'm thinking about maybe having a beta. Is anyone interested? I would need you for grammar and input for the story. PM me or tell me in a review. Thanks!**

**Jumper**


	2. Flightless Bird, American Mouth

**I officially have a beta! Ellibobelli! She is amazing and this chapter is about a thousand times better because of her. **

**Thank you to all of the people that reviewed! You're awesome! **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all, except the name of this chapter, which is owned by Coldplay.**

I stared at the envelopes for a minute, thinking that they must have been put in the wrong mailbox. I never got anything in the mail except for the cursed bills, and junk, all of which I dumped into the trash unopened the second I walked up into my apartment.

But all of the letters were addressed to Isabella Marie Swan. No return address.

Obviously this person didn't know me well or they would have put Bella, not Isabella. 

Almost in a trance, my mind sifted through the ideas of what could possibly be in the envelopes-which I realized were extremely heavy-as I walked up the steps into my apartment. What if someone has Alice hostage and it's some sort of really dramatic ransom?!

I tried to control my breathing, and remembered that Alice was on a date with Jasper, who I met before, and liked. 

I hopped up on my kitchen counter and ripped open the envelope that had a one marked in the left corner. 

The first thing that fell into my hands was a stack of money. And I mean a big stack. I gasped and, with shaking fingers, started to count. A thousand dollars. I counted at least five times, thinking that I must have mixed up somehow, but I was right the first time. 

Who in the world would send me a thousand dollars? I'm insanely ordinary- a struggling writer living in New York City. What a shocker. Why me?

I pulled myself out of my musing and shook the envelope again.

The next thing that fell out was a ticket to London. London. As in, the Queen. I stared at it in awe for a moment, the shook the letter out and unfolded it. 

_Dear Isabella,_

_From this moment forward, you can do one of two things. Trust me blindly and hop on a plane to Scotland, or you can rip this letter and the ticket up and spend the money on shoes or something. The choice is yours._

_If you choose to do this, you're going to learn a few things about yourself. Something I'm pretty sure you've been dying to do._

_But there are a few rules:_

_1. Do NOT open all of the envelopes at once. Only open the next one when you've completed what you're supposed to do._

_2. Don't tell anyone that you're leaving. Send them a letter after you've already arrived, letting them know you're safe, but don't say what's going on._

_3. Leave your cell phone behind._

_4. Leave your work behind._

_5. Leave every single thing you own behind except a passport and the clothes on your back._

_Well, that's it. Whether you continue or not is up to you._

The letter ended there. It wasn't signed. 

Even though I had no idea who this person was and what their intentions were, I didn't hesitate in deciding that I was going; it just felt _right_ . I rummaged in a drawer, pulled out the little blue book that was my passport, and practically sprinted out the door. According to the plane ticket that I took a glimpse at, the plane left in an hour.

It's a good thing I live ten minutes away from the airport.

In New York, it's always faster to walk than take a cab. I did neither. I ran as fast as I possibly could, and for a klutz, that's particularly dangerous. But something was watching over me because not once did I trip, stumble, or bump into a single person on the jam-packed sidewalk.

I ran into the airport, completely out of breath. I waited in the extremely long line in security, tapping my foot and constantly checking my watch. When I got to the top of the line I reached down to take off my shoes but found something much more interesting.

Slippers.

I had never changed out of my pajamas. Wow. What a sight I must have been, a girl in plaid pajamas and fuzzy penguin slippers, practically flying down the street, clutching a stack of blue envelopes.

I snapped out of my daydream and hurriedly put my slippers in the basket. I got through security and customs in record time. I just made it to the gate when they started calling first class.

I glanced at my ticket to see when I should go up, and saw that I was actually in first class. In too much of a hurry to muse over this , I rushed up, handed the stewardess my ticket, and boarded the plane.

I had never been in first class, and it was _nice._ The seats were plush and folded all the way back, there was a movie playing on a fifty-inch TV, and the stewardesses brought all kinds of food that was actually good, not the awful stuff you get in coach.

About a half hour into the flight, I wished that I had disregarded the rule that said to leave everything behind. I did the math in my head and realized that the flight was going to be over seven hours. This was going to be boring.

To keep myself occupied, I tried to think of where these letters could possibly have come from. They said I would learn something about my past, and that was a first.

I knew nothing about my parents. All I know is that I was found on the stoop of a church. The only reason I know my name is that it said it on my hospital bracelet. 

I stopped thinking about that it- it hurt too much. Sure, I never knew my parents, so it's not like I could possibly miss them. But it still stings that they just completely abandoned me. I mean, who does that? I though people only left babies on church stoops in movies. Apparently not.

So, I started thinking about something else. Like what the hell am I supposed to tell Alice?

She's going to freak, obviously. Like when she comes over tonight for Saturday's annual movie night. Every Saturday, Alice and I rent at least five movies. And they're in categories; my favorite movie's, Alice's favorites, crappiest movies, war movies, black and white movies, Tom Hanks movies etc. etc. This week was supposed to be chick flicks. I sighed thinking about how much I would miss Alice.

Hopefully she doesn't call the cops. I decided that the second I got to London, I was going to send her a letter, and express mail it home. If it took more than two days, I was screwed

Then another thought occurred to me; why had I trusted this mysterious letter-sender so completely? After I was done reading it, I didn't even pause for a second to think or rationalize, which is so unlike me.

Usually, I'm a careful planner. I practically planned my entire life; get a crappy job so I could write, finish my first book by age twenty, be published by twenty-two, quit my job and become a full-time writer by twenty-five. Okay, maybe not my whole life, but the next six years.

I didn't plan this little vacation. I don't even think I consciously decided to run to the airport and jump on a plane. Maybe I was having an out-of-body experience.

Then the freaking out started. Should I go home? Should I spend some time in London, then go home? Should I find a payphone immediately and call Alice, begging her to come get me? Should I continue on this little adventure.

I stewed on that for over two hours, my stomach in knots. I bounced back and forth between plans.

First, I thought I would just take the thousand dollars, pay for a suitable outfit and a flight home, then throw the rest in a fountain or give it to a homeless person. But if I'm in London, I should at least enjoy it, right?

So, then I came to my second idea. Just hanging out in London for a week or so, then heading home. At least I could have some fun. 

But how scary would it be to be completely alone in a new city? I grew up in New York, so cities don't scare me, but I knew New York like the back of my hand. I knew absolutely nothing about London. So that's how the third plan started; call Alice and somehow convince her to come here. We could spend a few weeks here together.

I was decided on that plan for over an hour, and then I glanced down at the stack of envelopes in my hands. I got the familiar ache that came with not knowing anything about my family. I knew what I had to do; inexplicably trust someone I had never met or seen in my entire life. 

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, I was woken up by the pilot announcing we would be landing in fifteen minutes. I waited impatiently, and drummed my fingers on my knees. Finally, we landed, and I was the first one out of the plane.

London, here I come.

**There you have it! Please review! I'm hoping to have the next chapter up before Christmas, but I make no promises.**


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